


Leave a Mark

by HardiganCaptain



Series: Fic Exchanges [2]
Category: Warrior (2011)
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person, borderline non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardiganCaptain/pseuds/HardiganCaptain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the evil incarnate known as letshaveahardyparty, in exchange for a Forrest fic. I don’t care what she’s telling you guys, I am definitely winning the most out of this deal. I get fantastic Forrest as well as getting to write shameless Tommy smut. </p><p>As a head's up this fic bothered someone/some people, It's not non con per se, more "We can't do this here in public, are you crazy?!" </p><p>Tommy staking a claim. was the prompt</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

You absolutely hate when Tommy has an event coming up, despise how he always hides away from the public eye because he can’t stand all the attention. The posters, the old fight video clips, the way he can’t even walk to the store down on the corner without having hormonal women fling themselves at him, all of it keeps him locked away in his apartment. You really fucking hate it.

So your friends drag you out every night they can to try and take your mind off how distant he’s becoming. The neon signs blur, the names of clubs are hazy, but four or more nights a week you find yourself out painting the town red. It always starts with you absolutely sure that there is no way you’re going to enjoy yourself, that you’ll be miserable, but your friend’s laughter is infectious, the pounding music too seductive to ignore, and the four of you carve a niche on the dance floor until the place shuts down.

It’s while you’re trying to move away from some guy that doesn’t seem to take your subtle hints of disinterest that Tommy shows up. You don’t see him, it’s more than you can feel his hot gaze on you through the crowd. No one makes your blood heat like he can, your heart race, and you search the crowd until you find him. He’s pushing his way through the undulating bodies like they’re nothing more than water, his hand gripping the man’s shirt and shoving him away.

“Go find another girl,” his voice is a low growl but it’s easily heard over the music, “Stop touching mine.”

“Tommy, I-” Those eyes are on you again, your breath catching at the anger in them. He’s never hit you, never once laid a finger on you in a way you didn’t like. But right now you’re half terrified that he’s going to start.

Your friends are all protesting, tugging at you as his hand wraps around your upper arm to drag you off of the floor. All of your consolitary words seem to be hitting a brick wall, the last ending in a soft grunt as he shoves you into a corner.

“This is what you do every night? Let men paw at you, squirming around like a bitch in heat, teasing everything with a dick in sight with how you and your friends grind all over each other?”

“No, God no, Tommy. We were just dancing. That’s all. I don’t even know that guy, he wouldn’t-”

“I don’t blame him.” His hands slam into the wall on either side of your head, leaning in close his breath hot on your cheeks. You can smell the sour scent of whiskey on his breath. “You got any idea what you look like when you move your hips like that?”

“Tommy, please, I-”

His hand covers your mouth, glaring at you until you stop trying to talk. It slides down to your throat, squeezing lightly as his hips roll in to press against yours. Your mouth opens to try and explain again but his fingers dig in until you stop with a soft choking sound.

“Nah, I don’t want to hear any more of that bull shit.” his grip loosens, eyes dropping down to the dip in your shirt where your breasts are heaving with each breath, almost falling out of your shirt. “I think you forget.”

“Forget what?” your voice is hesitant, your hands on his chest. He’s scaring you, the distant way he’s acting is starting to freak you out.

“That you’re a taken woman.” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

He presses his hips forward until you have to spread your legs to let him in, your hands sliding to his shoulders to keep your balance on the tips of your toes. When his eyes lift to yours there’s a calculating gleam in them, the ever present toothpick in his mouth rising and falling as he slowly works it over with his teeth.

“Is that what it is? You go out and you forget you’re with someone?” he turns his head to the side, the toothpick spat out before moving back to you. “Don’t I make you howl at night, don’t I make you scream my name til you can’t breathe? What other man’s gonna do that for you, huh?”

Every word is punctuated with a sharp thrust of his hips, the pressure grinding you against the wall, lifting your feet from the ground. His hands move to your wrists, encircling them, pinning your hands to the wall above your head.

“You’re in this little black dress, shimmying around, giving them glances of your thighs like your going to spread them open at any moment.” his cheek is pressed against yours, his lips caressing your ear. The low husky voice is sending flashes of lighting down your body, you can feel yourself getting wet, a soft whimper passing your lips as the sharp thrusts slide you up the wall.

“You even wearing anythin underneath that?” he shifts his grip on your wrists so he’s holding both in one hand. The other slides down to one of your thighs that’s gripping his waist, sliding his palm up to your hip and fingering the strap of the underwear that you’d put on. It’s almost non existent  you’d needed something that wouldn’t show through the tight black dress.

“That’s even worse, these are one of them skimpy little lace things, ain’t they.” his fingers curl around it, pulling until it tears, the fabric riding up to grind against your clit as he rips it. He lets out a soft grunt as he rips the other side as well before pulling them loose to hold them up between you.

“Fuck.” the word is drawled out, his heavy accent making shivers roll down your spine. “Look at this, this is what you wear when you go out? Do you sit at the bar with your legs open for everyone to see them?”

“No, Tommy-”

“Shut up. Just shut up.” his hand squeezes around your wrists, grinding them together. “You go out, all dolled up like some whore, and then you come home to me. Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“It’s not like that-” The protest dies on your lips as he throws the tattered garment to the floor, his hand sliding between your legs and slowly fingering you.

“You’re fucking soaked.” he lifts the hand to your mouth, running the wet fingers over your lips as you try to turn your head to get away from them. “I should just fuck you here and now, leave you with your little slut friends and lock my goddamned door…”

“Tommy, you’re hurting me.”

“You like it,” the smile isn’t friendly, it’s cruel as he grinds the front of his jeans against you drawing a sharp gasp from your throat. “You can’t be this wet and not be enjoying yourself. Any other man got the stones to do this to you?”

“No. Tommy please-”

“Please what?” his lips brush against yours, nip your lower lip, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm that has your eyes closing. “You want it so bad you can’t stand it, don’t ya?”

“Tommy,” his name is a sharp whine in your throat, your hips jerking. Your head hitting the wall with a dull thud as it falls back.

“You’d like it,” his tone is smug as he slips his hands between you, his knuckles grinding against your groin as he undoes his jeans. “I think I’d like it too. Can’t have you forgetting who you belong to.”

“Jesus, Tommy, you can’t-”

His hands lift your wrists from the wall to slam them back down, turning his head to swipe his tongue along the curve of your ear. The pain radiates down your arms drawing a soft whimper from you as your fingers curl and uncurl helplessly.

“I can do whatever I damn well please to you,” his hot breath on your ear and neck make you shiver, his teeth scraping against your throat hard enough you cry out. “And you’ll like it.”

You start to struggle, arching your back to try and knock him off balance, but even with the whiskey burning in his veins he’s still got his balance, the balance that keeps him on his feet in the ring. Cursing you turn your head and snap at his shoulder, the only thing you can think of. The sharp hiss in your ear leaves you feeling smug, he’s not going to-

“You little bitch!”

The next thrust of his hips has him sliding into you, filling you, stretching you, and he leaves you with no time to adjust. The furious pace has you screaming, the sharp tear of his teeth sinking into the crook of your neck leaves you sobbing. He’s not gentle, the thrusts slamming you into the wall, his pelvis crushing yours. Letting go of your wrists he settles both hands on your hips, digging them into the skin, your dress riding up to your waist as your legs wrap around him.

“You fucking bit me!” the disbelief in his voice is almost lost in the way he growls out the words. “You goddamned bitch, I can’t believe you-”

You’re sobbing his name, fingers scraping against the fabric frantically trying to hold on as he pounds into you. His teeth are on your throat, the back of your head scraping against the wall with every thrust, the orgasm hitting you like a mac truck. He doesn’t stop, his hips pistoning faster as you squeeze around him, feeling your skin break beneath his teeth. The kiss is brutal and slick, all teeth and lips as you scream his name.

He slams into you as he comes, your fingers burying themselves into the muscles of his back at the sharp pain that’s radiating through you. Harsh breathing in your ear, his sweaty forehead resting against your shoulder as he trembles through it, his hips trying to press impossibly tighter against yours. You almost fall when he steps back, not bothering to steady you as he takes his time tucking himself back into his pants and refastening them.

“You got two options,” he rolls his eyes up to yours, they’re dark and the shiver you feel chasing over your skin has nothing to do with fear. “You can stay here, with your bitch friends and grind up against each other, or, or you can come the fuck home with me right now.”

With that he turns to walk away, his shoulders rolling with the after math of what he’d done to you. Frantically you pull your dress down, leaning back against the wall in hopes that it can support you because your legs are doing a shitty job of it. Cursing your heels, you move to take a step and find yourself falling back against the wall. Stunned you stare at him, making another attempt before falling back again.

“Tommy…. Tommy!!”

“What?!” he whirls around, face set in a scowl as he glares at you.

“I can’t fucking walk!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a return fic prompt thingy, supposed to be a continuance of this fic. It... I don't know what it did but it did it. Warning: Denied O time. Yeah... So.. XD Fuck I'm sorry Alicat...

Never going to forgive him for that, carrying you out of the club over his shoulder. Seriously?! You still remember the cheering you'd heard from the bar as he'd walked past, your face buried in his back to avoid meeting anyone's eyes. His hand had settled on the inside of your thigh, his thumb hooking in the short skirt to keep it from riding up, thank God for small favors. He'd been anything but chivalrous as he'd set you down on the cold bench outside the club, letting out a loud window rattling 'TAXI' before turning to stare down at you.

You can't lie, the sudden drop had brought a soft whimper to your lips, your body still trembling from the rough fuck against the wall. There'd been a flash of apology in his eyes, his full lips parting slightly to say only God knows what until some asshole had whistled at you. The soft look had fallen away, his eyes shuttered as a cab pulled up to the curb, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and tossing you inside. Climbing in after you, he'd hesitated, giving you a moment to fix your skirt before following.

The whole ride is quiet, his dark gaze staring straight ahead as you try to figure out if talking is going to cause another possessive fuck in a taxi. Your hand reaches out, fingers curling and uncurling before lightly placing your hand on his arm. So many questions in that one touch and you fight back a smile when he lets out a soft huff.

“I'm sorry.” Well not exactly what you were expecting, you'd expected him to read you you're rights, the smell of whiskey still pouring off him in waves. “I shouldna gone out lookin for ya when I'm ten sheets to the wind.”

He's right, he shouldn't have, so you say nothing, shifting closer on the seat without actually pressing against him. He has his moments, and when he does they're really bad. Years of barely restrained temper won't be cured in the ring after only a couple years. It's the closest he can bring himself to some kind of therapy. Still he'd cut back on his drinking which is why you'd been so surprised to almost pass out beneath the assault of sour malt whiskey washing over your face.

“Shit.” his arm lifts suddenly wrapping around your shoulders pulling you across the seat, leaning his head to kiss the top of yours. The acrid scent of booze seeped sweat fills your nose as he nuzzles the crown of your head, his fingers lightly tracing small circles on your shoulders. “I'm bad as my Pops, aren't I?”

You'd heard the stories, woken to his screaming in his sleep, no he wasn't as bad as Paddy had been. Silently you wrap around him, pulling your legs up on the seat to half lay on his chest as you hold him. Fingers playing with the zipper of his jacket, you tilt your head back to stare up at him with a half smile, you know it's crooked as hell but it drags an amused twitch of his lips. It fades a moment later as his gaze drops down to the lightly mottled coloring of your wrist.

“You put up with a lot of shit, you sure it's worth it?”

“Yeah Tommy, it's worth it.”

His eyes are heavy lidded when the cab finally pulls up to the apartment building, he'd jerked himself fully awake twice. Climbing out he turns around to offer you his hand, lightly curling his fingers around your palm as he leads you up the stairs. You're half worried that the two of you are going to go tumbling down them, more than a bit surprised when he pulls you close in the hallway just outside the door to nuzzle your neck.

“You're good for me, babe. Too damned good for me.”

“Just unlock the door, Tommy, you need to lie down.”

“Oh yeah?” he pulls back with a smirk, his words drawling out. “I'm just gonna have to lay back and take it, huh?”

“What are you-” fumbling in his pockets you find the key, unlocking the door and almost falling beneath the sudden weight when he throws his arm over your shoulder.

“I should, to make up for bein such an animal, huh?”

“Tommy?” Officially lost, you half drag his staggering self to the room and try to let him fall on the bed alone only to be dragged with him.

“You'd like that, wouldn' ya? Big bad Tommy Conlon all whiny and squirming for ya?” wrapping an arm around your waist he pulls you onto his chest before letting go and lifting his arms over his head, the leather jacket squeaking in protest as his muscles bulged.

“Tommy you're drunk.”

“Mmmm,” his face is serious, lowering his hands to thread through your hair, cupping the back of your head to pull you in for a kiss. His lips twist into a mocking grin as he leans back, rolling his body against yours. “Don't think you could make me beg, ain't got the stones for it.”

Raising an eyebrow, your tongue chasing the taste of him from your lips, you sit up straddling his hips staring down at him. You could make him writhe, you've been with him so long that you know the spots that make him groan, the ones that draw an almost submissive sound from his lips... And he's literally begging for it... He never said he had to actually get off...

“Or maybe we shouldn't-” his voice is uncertain, his bleary eyes on yours clearing with a moment of clarity, “I don' like that look in your eyes...”

“How bad could it be,” your voice is a low purr, your fingers sliding up his chest, curving your spine downwards as you catch the zipper in your teeth.

“Jesus... Bad, real bad.” his voice hitches as you slowly drag the key down, your fingers slipping inside to slowly pull it away from his chest, your nose brushing against the line of skin peeking out from his raised wifebeater. “Babe?”

“Shut up Tommy.” even you're surprised by the tone of command, though you refuse to let him know it.

Even more startling is the low whine that squeezes it's way out of his throat as you slowly trail your fingers over his heaving chest, skimming that hint of skin before slowly pushing the shirt upwards, your lips trailing kisses over every inch of skin as it's exposed. The possessive sound that rolls out between your teeth as his hands lift from the bed has him inhaling sharply, his hands hesitant until you push them back down. His hips lift, the erection curving his jeans prodding your stomach, the look you give him as him swallowing thickly as you slowly slither down his legs. A sharp nip of your teeth against the soft skin on the indent in his hip.

“Fuck, babe, you can't just-”

“Can.” the husky word makes him blink, your fingers slowly trailing over the bulge, scraping your nails against it through the denim.

Scraping your nails down his thighs you watch his hips thrust upwards, his cock twitching inside the jeans, head falling back against the pillows with a groan. You haven't got the strength to hold him down like he does you, but you've learned just how much an incentive denied pleasure can be.

“Do that again and I stop, and you can sleep in here alone, Conlon.”

“Alright, okay, just-”

Your cheek rests on his thigh, the feeling of the muscle shaking against the urge to move is more thrilling than you thought it would be. Reaching out you grasp the zipper of his jeans and slowly pull it downwards. The thigh beneath your cheek is harder than rock as he fights the urge to move, finally shifting farther up on the bed to wrap his fingers around the top of the headboard.

“Something wrong, baby?”

His head shakes violently as he watches you with wide eyes, for a moment you feel a twinge of concern, resting your hands on his thighs to lean close enough to kiss him. There's something very wrong here, something you can't quite get a handle on, his lips still beneath yours.

“Don't stop,” the words are whispered against your lips, his eyes blinking slowly before focusing on you. “I'm fine, just- Don't stop, okay?”

Your nails dig into the firm muscles that slide over his ribs as he breathes shallowly, a soft sigh breezing over your lips. Sliding them down, feeling them drag and stutter along his skin, you watch him as his spine bows towards you, another whine as his head falls backwards. If you'd doubted the reaction the hard line of his cock branding your thigh would have convinced you.

“Jesus, Tommy...”

Skimming your lips along the line of his throat you slowly sink your teeth into the thick muscle, resting your hands on his hips, curling your fingers so the nails dig. The whimper that ghosts past your ear as his hips thrust upwards makes you smile, his head falling to rest against his other shoulder exposing more of your neck.

“Harder.”

“Wh-” you pull back licking the salt of his skin from your lips.

“What? You ain't got the stones to try and take a chunk outta the bastard that embarrassed you like that in public?”

Open palm slamming against his cheek before you have a chance to stop the temper fueled reaction has you staring at him horror. The slow way he turns his head to look at you fills you with dread until you see his smile.

“That all?”

Scowling you slide off him, slipping off the bed and storming out to the living room letting the bedroom door slam shut behind you. It takes him a moment, you can hear him fall off the bed, a low muttered curse before he's pulling open the door and stumbling towards you.

“What? Can't hit me? Why not?!”

“You're drunk Tommy, and the games you want to play are stupid.”

He stares at you a moment, blinking slowly before falling back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I offer you a bit of your own back and what? You don't want it?”

“No.”

“-... Ain't nobody gonna turn down a bit of their own back.”

“C'mere Tommy,” you lift a hand, crooking a finger at him as you back slowly towards the couch.

His eyes are wary, the glazed expression that was there an hour ago gone. Hesitantly he finally makes his way towards you again, his feet still unsteady. Pushing the jacket from his shoulders, you slide your hands down his arms to his wrists, guiding his hands to your waist. When he jerks back, it takes all of your weight to try and keep him upright the two of you falling back onto the couch when you fail. Yanking his wifebeater up over his head you leave it tangled on his arms, catching his lower lip in your teeth and giving it an almost brutal bite.

His eyes fall closed, body arching under your hands almost throwing you off. Impatiently tugging at his belt you grin as he opens his eyes to stare up at you confused.

“Make up your mind, will ya? You're making my head spin.”

“Shut up, Tommy.”

Your teeth leave a line of bites down his throat, spilling across his chest as you slowly stroke him. His fingers dig into the arm of the couch, hips raising and falling in time with your hand, honestly it's the hottest thing you've ever seen. All that testosterone fueled muscle shaking, the quiet noises rising out of his chest. There's the hitch in his breath, his stomach muscles tensing under your splayed palm and you squeeze tightly, forefinger digging into the thick vein.

The choked noises and sputtering would have been funny if not for the undignified groan and the way his hips almost threw you off as he struggled to break free of wifebeater still tied around his arms. Smiling sweetly you press kisses against his chest, his jaw, enjoying his cursing.

“Did that hurt?”

“Yes!” the word is hissed between gritted teeth, his eyes murderous as you start slowly stroking him again, almost too gentle to do much good. “What the hell is this?”

“You want torture, Tommy, I can do that.” your voice is serious, eyes locked on his, “You wanna hurt, I'll make sure you don't walk for days after I finally let you come, but don't you ever pull that bullshit in the bedroom on me again.”

“Jesus woman, you're gonna kill me if you do that again...”

“Tommy...”

You can see the temptation in his eyes to keep arguing, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips as he searches yours before nodding slowly.

“Good. Now say please.”

“What!?”

“You heard me, Tommy.” leaning closer you catch his ear in your teeth, smiling at the shiver that runs down his spine. You're not a fan of Tommy too close to a bottle but if this is what happened at some point... You miss the muttered words, his hips thrusting towards the loose curl of your hand, chasing the denied friction as though possessed.

“Say please.”

“Just fucking get on with it.”

“Wrong.” sliding your thumb along the underside of the shaft you drag it over the head, his mouth falling open on a gasp. “Try again.”

“Pl-” he chokes on the word as you give him an encouraging firm stroke.

“I didn't hear that.”

“God.. please, alright? You happy? Can you just-”

Sliding down to settle over his shins, you grin up at him slowly running your tongue along the length, precome pooling on your tongue as you flick the slit with the tip of your tongue. His arms lower over his chest as he tries to untangle his arms, fingers clumsily plucking at the thin fabric. When you slowly suck on the head, his hips jerk upwards, the smooth glide through your hand drawing a shiver from you as you wrap your fingers tightly around the base even as he curses.

“I said please! Christ! What do you want?!” his breathing's heavy as you slither upwards, his cock softening slightly under your grip.

“I'm going to ride you and you're not going to come until I tell you to.”

“What?” the word's dull as he stares at you in disbelief.

“You heard me, fair's fair.”

“Well fuck that, you get that crotch of yours anywhere near and I'll bust.”

“And I'll move off you so quickly your head spins.”

“What's gotten into you?” the question is quiet, his hands still on his stomach where he'd been working the shirt off of his arms.

“You fucked up, Tommy. I love you, but oh God did you fuck up.”

Shifting your hips you slowly slide down the length of him, his eyes tightening as you brace yourself using his stomach. Rolling your hips slowly he winces at the pressure of your hands, his legs bending at the knees slightly as his hips jerk upwards as you roll. His knuckles are white moments later, fingers curled so tightly into fists the veins on his arms raise in sharp relief against his skin.

“I can't-”

“You will.”

Lifting your hips you drop them slowly, your pace almost languid as he groans half in pleasure half in pain. He's fucking you from beneath, dragging soft whines from you as your nails dig into the firm muscle.

“Baby, please, you can't just-”

“Wait, ju- just wait.” the orgasm was slow to build, a mutual torment but now your skin is prickling with it, stealing the breath from your lungs until it spills over, drowning you in it.

You drag it out as long as you can, the distant sound of Tommy begging beneath you, the soft ripping sound of fabric reaching your ears when you sob your permission, body shaking over him. His hands grip your hips, pressing you flush against him grinding you down as he comes with a full throated howl you've never heard him make before. His blunt nails break skin on your lower back across to your hips as the long denied orgasm burns through him. His fingers slide around to cup the back of your head dragging you down for a kiss, a hard press of lips even as you shifting makes him whimper.

“Never, I mean fucking ever, again.”

“Don't fuck with me then.” you yawn shifting to the side, burrowing down into the couch, his body smothering you but a contented smile curls your lips.

“Don't plan on it.” you fall asleep enjoying the note of admiration and wariness in his voice as he rolls to wrap around you, pressing you farther into the couch.


End file.
